


JaimeVision

by ikkiM



Series: A Whole Universe in a Closet [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 15:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7538413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/pseuds/ikkiM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending the evening at a WesterVision watching party at the Boltons, Brienne plans a morning surprise for Jaime. Unfortunately for her, he wakes up long before morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	JaimeVision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The JB Fandom over at JaimeBrienne.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+JB+Fandom+over+at+JaimeBrienne.com).



> This work is a sequel to [In the Closet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5238125/chapters/12082373) although you really don't need to read that first. This should stand on its own, absent a few weird references here and there.
> 
> The inspiration for this came after the Jaime Brienne Online [EuroVision Group Watch](http://jaimebrienne.com/topic/11639434/). I'd never seen it before and wanted to thank people for introducing me to [erotic butter churning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8J3GAg5zaI).

Brienne woke wriggling and annoyed. A large, warm hand rubbed circles on the silk covering her stomach, teeth tugging at the thin strap on her shoulder.

“Jaime,” she mumbled, “it’s the middle of the night. What are you doing?” It had been a long weekend, and she’d been fast asleep.

He spoke against her skin, “Mmm...I woke up to find this strange woman in my bed. It can’t be my wench. She sleeps in ratty tee shirts and white cotton underpants.” He tugged again at the strap of her nightgown. “Who is this lingerie-clad stranger, and what has she done with my girlfriend?”

Brienne was too sleepy to blush. After three exhausting days of moving her things into his house, they had gone to the Bolton’s WesterVision viewing party. She’d spent more time avoiding embarrassing questions about their relationship than she had watching the singing competition. Jaime’s competitive streak inevitably kicked in, and he’d campaigned loudly and obstinately for his favorite song, which ended up coming in second.

It had been late when they’d arrived back home. _Home_ , she thought as she rubbed her face against the pillow. Jaime had been a little too sore and a little too drunk to do more than brush his teeth, strip and fall into bed. She hadn’t been in much better shape, but she’d wanted to make their first real morning _officially_ living together particularly special. She put on the blue silk babydoll nightie she’d found hanging in the back of her closet when she’d packed her things. After a good night’s sleep, she planned to wake early and surprise him with breakfast and affection, but Jaime was ruining it.

She grumbled, “Of course it’s me. Now go back to sleep.” She shifted her legs, nestling one between his. It had been odd at first, sleeping wrapped up with Jaime, but now she couldn’t imagine getting a good night’s rest any other way.

She was on the edge of falling back asleep when he stuck his finger in her bellybutton and wiggled it. “Not sure I can do that unless I can see you and make sure this is really my wench and not a face-changing assassin. Why don’t you get up and turn on the light, let me get a good look at you?”

She burrowed her head into the pillow, muffling her reply. “No.”

“ _Obstinate. Stubborn_. Sounds like my Brienne, but this,” he ran his hand down her side, fingering the silk, “says otherwise.”

She rolled over onto her back and huffed at him, “Jaime, I’m tired. Nothing is getting me out of this bed until the sun comes up.” While Jaime could be up half the night and be none the worse for wear in the morning, Brienne liked her sleep.

In the soft moonlight from the window, she could see a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh really? Not even if you have to,” he paused dramatically, “use the ladies’?”

Brienne groaned. Jaime knew the very mention of having to pee in the middle of the night meant she’d have to go. “I will punish you for this,” she groused as she threw the covers completely off the bed and climbed out.

Jaime growled, “Hey, there’s no need for that. I’ll catch a chill.”

“Serves you right for not wearing pajamas,” she shot back over her shoulder.

“Turn the light on when you come back,” he suggested.

“No,” she protested. “I’m going back to sleep.”

She slammed the bathroom door. She almost smiled thinking to herself that she’d become so familiar with Jaime’s house, _their_ house, that she could manage the bathroom in the dark. She flushed and washed her hands, ready to climb back in bed. The _new_ , enormous bed Jaime had insisted they buy after the never-to-be-discussed Footboard Incident. Their bed, with its two thousand thread count sheets and insanely comfortable pillows. A bed perfect for two very tall people to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, however they wanted, and as many times as they wanted. And oh, they did _want._ Brienne had never slept so well. She didn’t think Jaime had either. Maybe he was out already. He could fall asleep in an instant. She did smile then at the thought of snuggling up next to him, safe, comfortable and _happy_.

Brienne came out of the bathroom to a blinding light in her eyes. She shielded her face with one hand. “What are you doing?” she squawked.

The light danced around the room.

Jaime spoke from the bed, imitating the WesterVision host, “Next we have the entry from Tarth. And what _is_ she wearing?” The light travelled down her body and back up again, coming to rest on her chest.

Brienne flapped one large hand his direction. “Jaime, I am going to delete that spotlight app from your phone. Turn it off.”

“Mmmm,” he continued, almost purring now, “that is quite the little number on the contestant from Tarth. Blue is _definitely_ her color. I do wonder, however, what it looks like from the back.” He swirled the light around. “Come on, give us a look.”

Brienne sighed in exasperation. If she had any hope of getting back to sleep, she’d have to show him now, morning surprise be damned. She shoogled in a tiny awkward circle, reaching behind to flip up the back of the blue nightie to give Jaime a peek of the matching underpants.

“Oh _yes_ , the jury from the Westerlands is definitely considering awarding points to the entry from Tarth based on costume alone.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Now shut off that stupid light so we can get back to sleep.”

Jaime dropped his phone but reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. “Bring those fancy knickers over here so I can get a closer look.”

Brienne clomped over to the bed and ungracefully straddled his stomach. He grunted at the weight of her then put his hands on her thighs and began squeezing. “The jury from the Westerlands could be influenced…” his voice trailed off suggestively.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Brienne argued, more awake now than she wanted to be and fully aware of naked, aroused Jaime beneath her.

He whined in return, “What’s the point of moving in with my sexy young girlfriend if I can’t fuck her whenever the mood strikes me?”

She pushed aside the frisson of excitement that rolled through her at the knowledge that she could have him whenever the mood struck _her_ to answer, “Is that why you nagged me into moving in? For the sex?”

“Yes, for the _sex_.” He waggled his brows. “Now come give us a bit of a kiss and cuddle. Earn those points from the Westerlands.” He smacked his lips together the same way he’d done when he’d seen Walda Bolton’s spread of baked goods.

“What if I’m not in the mood to earn any points from you,” she responded, punctuating her words with a series of pokes to his chest. “Maybe I just want to get some rest.” Not that sleep was the only thing on her mind now, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Not just yet.

Jaime raised one brow at her. “Oh, is that how it is? Now that we are living together, you’re going to parade about in all manner of slinky lingerie and sexy jogging shorts only to tell me you’re ‘not in the mood’? Going to keep me in a perpetual state of horniness so I obey your every command? Want me groveling at your feet? Is that it?” He emphasized his questions with a firm squeeze to her thighs.

“Is that all I’d need to do to get you to obey me?” She tapped his nose.

He grabbed her fingers and kissed each one. “Oh wench, I’ve been groveling at your feet since I first kissed you in that coat closet.”

Brienne felt a now familiar warmth bloom in her chest. Jaime was always so open about his feelings for her, even in the face of her disbelief, and at times, outright denial. He had never for a moment doubted his feelings for her or hers for him.

“So where did this come from?” he ran his large warm hands along her backside. “Did you buy this hot little number just for me?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

She flushed, remembering purchasing the nightie back when she’d had a crush on Renly Baratheon, having mistaken his kindness for affection. It hung, untouched, in the back of her closet ever since. “I’ve had it a while,” she shrugged. She’d tell him the full story tomorrow when she was more awake and not distracted by his hands and his warmth.

His eyes widened a bit. “It wasn’t in your underwear drawer.”

She narrowed her own eyes, pressed her bottom firmly into his stomach, and clinched his ribs with her legs. “How do you know that?” she growled as she loomed over him, almost nose to nose.

He grunted. She eased the pressure enough for him to speak.

“Because you have twenty-two identical pair of clean, white cotton panties,” he replied.

Brienne reared back, “You counted my underpants?”

He smiled endearingly and batted his eyelashes. “You were busy making that yummy fruit salad for the party, and I was just trying to organize things for you. I was being a _good_ boyfriend.”

Brienne covered her face with her hands. “You counted my underpants.”

Jaime ran a hand up her side, tickling her ribs. She flinched and peeked through her fingers.

He grinned gleefully, “Well. Since we are a couple now. What’s yours is mine, and I think of them as _my_ underpants.”

She wriggled against his stomach, knowing the effect she would have on him. “Then maybe you should start wearing them?’

“Oh _no_ , this costume seems specially made for the contestant from Tarth.” Jaime gripped her hip to still her movement and put on his WesterVision smile again. He reached up and tugged at a strap. “The jury from the Westerlands is wondering what sort of performance goes with a sexy little number like this.”

It was too late now that he had seen her. “I was going to surprise you in the morning. You know. With this,” she said, indicating the nightie. “And I was going to wake you up with... _you know_.” She couldn’t say the words as a flush crept over her skin.

As her meaning dawned on him, she felt him pressing, now fully hard against her backside. “ _Good gods_. You were going to wake me up by sucking my cock?” An expression of filthy delight settled on his face. “The jury from the Westerlands would definitely award points for _that_.”

She closed her eyes in a mix of mortification and desire. “You don’t have to be so crude about it, Jaime.” That had been her exact plan, but it was somehow both horrifying and thrilling to hear him verbalize it.

“Mmm,” he purred, and she looked down at him. He lifted one brow and licked his lips. “You like it when I'm crude. When I say hot, dirty things to you.” He emphasized his point by running his hands over her legs and around to her ass, squeezing lightly. “When I talk about how amazing your mouth feels around my cock, so wet and hot and perfect. It turns you on, doesn’t it?”

Her nipples tightened, and she squirmed a bit, feeling the heat of him radiating to her core. She did, in fact, enjoy it when he talked dirty, but she wasn’t about to admit it, not when he’d awakened her from a dead sleep in the middle of the night. “Well, now that you’ve ruined the surprise by waking up, I’m not going to do it.”

Jaime pushed out his lower lip and pouted. “Tease. The jury from the Westerlands is going to withhold points. What will you do then? Hmm? All dressed up and no points for the Tantalizing Temptress of Tarth.”

Brienne looked down at him, all golden hair and gorgeousness and an unmistakable hint of desire in his eyes. _Desire_. For her. She pushed her hips back into his arousal and ground against him, ready to just give in to what they both wanted. “Maybe the contestant from Tarth thinks she should just go back to sleep,” she said with a newfound boldness. Maybe she _could_ tease him.

He bit his lip, and the hint of desire blossomed into a full gleam. He ran his hands up her legs letting his thumbs stroke the sensitive inner skin. “Is that really what she’s thinking? I think you’re wrong.” His fingers traced the patterns of her freckled thighs. Her breath caught, and she rocked back against him. “I think she’s looking to buy off the jury. She wants the full twelve points.”

Brienne stilled and looked at him flatly. “ _Twelve_ points? Really Jaime?”

She felt a chuckle rumble through the chest beneath her. “You cheeky wench. Running around tarted up, getting the jury all excited only to insult his points.” He moved his fingers between her legs, tracing the seams of her knickers, slipping the tips of his index fingers almost inside. He always knew just how to touch her. She ground back against him. He moved his thumbs to stroke the damp barrier of silk between her legs. She moaned and arched her back, pressing herself closer.

“Tell me, Brienne, do you feel sexy wearing these? All silky and lacy? Do you feel as sexy as you look? Mmmm?” he asked, his voice low and husky. He gave her a disreputable leer and tugged at her panties. “How about you take these off and give the jury a taste of your work?”

Brienne looked at his decadent, tempting mouth, thinking of the things he could do with his tongue, how insistent he’d been on doing those things since they’d dispensed with condoms a few weeks ago and he found himself struggling with stamina. He slowly ran his teeth over his lower lip. _His beautiful, sexy mouth_. She felt heat curling in her belly. She hadn’t been able to convince him that she was struggling with stamina too, things happening all too quickly when there was no latex barrier between them. She ran her hands over his golden chest and pressed back against him. She made a decision.

She rolled off of him, shimmied out of her underwear, and, not for the first time, was thankful that Jaime chose to sleep naked. She was back up in an instant, positioned herself over him, and with a guiding hand, took him inside her with one smooth roll of her hips.

“Fuck, Brienne, holy fuck,” Jaime moaned as she rose up and came back down. “What the fuck are you doing, woman?” He groaned and shuddered beneath her as did the same again, taking him in completely this time. He reached for her hips, trying to still her movement. “You need to stop. I’m not going to last five minutes.” She clenched around him. “Maybe less,” he bit out.

Brienne used the strength in her legs to break his grasp. She just wanted him, without all the preamble he insisted was necessary. His body felt made for hers. “Don’t,” she grunted as she rose up and slammed back down again, hard this time, “care.”

He gasped out, “ _Gods_ , just let me make it good for you.”

She took him fully inside her again, this time clenching and twisting her hips before rising up. “It _is_ ,” she insisted as she ground down against him, using her body to show him just how good it was for her.

Jaime reached up one hand to fondle her breast, yanking down the thin material to stroke her bare nipple. He worked the fingers of his other hand over her clit as she rode him faster now. She made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She clamped down on the hand on her breast with one of her own and reached down to lightly pinch and twist his nipple with the pads of her fingers, knowing it would push him closer to the edge. She was so close already. She wanted him with her.

He sucked in his breath, letting it out in a tumble of words, “Fuck, wench. You are so fucking sexy, so tight and wet and hot. Your thighs and your eyes, making me so hard I can barely hold back. Like a fucking teenager. So amazing, so perfect. I love fucking you. Feeling you. My Brienne. Mine. All. Mine.” He grunted out two final words as he began to swell inside her. “Love. You.”

Brienne moaned and rose up only to drive her hips back closer to his. He was pulsing inside her, skin to skin. Sex with Jaime was _all_ of the seven heavens _._ She could barely control her own movements as his fingers worked feverishly where they were joined. She felt herself flutter and tighten around him. With a roar he exploded, throbbing and pulsating, pushing her over the edge. She threw back her head and screamed his name before falling forward onto his chest, sweaty, boneless and sated.

Jaime stroked her back as their breathing slowed. He kissed the top of her head, and she nuzzled her face into his neck.

“What was that? Barely three minutes. Pathetic,” he said in dismay as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Now we can get back to sleep,” Brienne sighed as she lay content atop him, and whispered softly in his ear. “The jury from Tarth gives the contestant from the Westerlands a full twelve points.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> All the love to [Quinn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QuizzicalQuinnia/pseuds/QuizzicalQuinnia) and [Sandwiches](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SandwichesYumYum/pseuds/SandwichesYumYum) for the love and beta and support, even when I change my mind on a fic midstream. Love your happy faces.


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